


More Time Than Others

by Sherlaufeyson



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Office Sex, Size Kink, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 03:36:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18908734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlaufeyson/pseuds/Sherlaufeyson
Summary: Post Episode: S03E01: Manchester Part 1Leo McGarry is furious. Sam Seaborn is frustrated. Toby Ziegler feels guilty.Earlier in the evening, White House Press Secretary C.J. Cregg misspoke after a long, exhausting week in politics. Sam stood up for her and let out his feelings on being left out of the loop and subsequently demanded to pick up the pieces. Toby wants to make things right.





	More Time Than Others

One mistake in an unexceptional press briefing and weeks and months of careful planning down the toilet. The White House Chief of Staff was failing to hide his frustration and disappointment. He was angry and his words came out dripping with sarcasm and misdirected rage.

“Well, why don’t we go with that, Sam? Let’s go out and say we’re all tired. The President’s tired. Complications due to MS.” Toby winced at Leo’s tone. 

“We haven’t had much time.” Sam’s voice was rising steadily with his increasing levels of frustration. Leo’s dismissive attitude was really getting under his skin. CJ had simply misspoken. A quick redaction and explanation could smooth all of this over.

“You had a week. How much time do you need?” Leo was shouting now and Toby could only look on as Sam stood up to him. The only one to speak out in defence of CJ, and god knew she deserved their support in this.

“Some of us have had more time than others!” Sam’s voice echoed around the office. He knew the moment he shouted that he was out of line. Toby and Josh were looking anywhere but in his direction, and Leo appeared about ready to throw him bodily from the room.

Sam flinched as Leo came around to the front of his desk, bellowing for Margaret and beating a hasty retreat from the office. 

Josh followed soon after and then it was just him and Toby left in the room. Toby still wasn’t making eye contact, so he muttered a soft goodbye and headed out of Leo’s office, out of the West Wing and onto Pennsylvania avenue. 

Sam had only walked a couple of blocks when he got a message from Ginger that he was needed back in the office. He pulled his coat tighter against the January cold and started making his way back.

He ran into Toby outside the door to his office. Sam hesitated from going in as Toby was giving off the energy that he was about to say something. Presumably, Toby was the reason he’d been called back in the first place. There was an awkward silence as neither of the men spoke or made eye contact. 

Sam resisted the urge to fidget.

“Would you step inside my office for a moment?” Toby’s voice was soft and low, but Sam could sense something seething below it. He knew he had been wrong to shout at Leo earlier, but dammit, Leo had to know they were under pressure. C.J. had only mis-spoken and it was important that be acknowledged.

Toby held the door open for Sam and gestured him through, shutting the door behind him and turning the lock.

“Shut the blinds please, Sam.” Toby’s voice was soft, but commanding.

Sam felt moisture his palms, and the first beads of sweat pricking at his hairline. He knew Toby was angry with him. They all were. He been a constant annoyance, first pushing for the President to postpone his press conference scheduled for the same day as Mrs Landingham’s funeral, and more recently, urging them to issue a formal apology over concealing his illness.

He moved over to the Venetian blinds, his fingers fumbling through heightened nerves to pull the strings to shut them, twisting the rod to close the slats. 

When he turned around, Toby was facing him, propped against the front of his desk, legs crossed at the ankle in front of him, and both palms flat, fingers curved over the edge of the desk. He had discarded his suit jacket on the chair next to him, and had loosened his tie and undone the top button. 

Sam was inconveniently made aware that he hadn’t had any liquids other than black coffee all day, and was suddenly parched. It was a mammoth effort to resist the urge to wet his lips or swallow against the dryness in his throat.

Half of Toby’s face was hidden; his head downcast, looking up at Sam. He spoke, his voice soft. “I know that you’re hurt. I know _why_ you’re hurt.” 

Sam brushed the comment off. “It’s not like that, Toby. I just –“

Toby raised his head. Sam’s voice stopped in its tracks when his blue eyes were arrested by deep brown. Toby had an uncanny ability to convey absolute contradictions through his eyes. Innocence and calculation. Vulnerability and strength. Righteousness and remorse. 

“Sam. I -” Toby took a deep breath. “I just wanted to say I apologise. I should have told you –“

“No.”

“I should have given you some idea of what was bearing down on us. I should have said something. I could have let you know without actually telling you.”

“It’s better this wa-“

“Don’t, Sam. Don’t make me the victim here. You were wronged. You have every right to get angry.”

Sam allowed himself a small, relieved smile. “To tell the truth, I thought you’d asked me in here to chew me out over yelling at Leo.”

“That wasn’t your most level-headed moment, but no. I just wanted you to know.”

Toby took a deep breath. So much weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The burden no longer his to bear alone. It still didn’t explain why he felt so shitty.

“You were right, you know,” he continued. “– to defend C.J.”

“C.J. doesn’t need defending.”

“I know that, but she wasn’t in the room. You were right to - you stood up for her.“

“Toby – what’s going on?”

“I wanted to apologise.”

“But why the cloak and dagger? Drawn blinds; locked door? I really thought I was in for it.”

“This is sensitive information.”

Sam could tell that his boss was holding something back. Toby was surrounded with a blanket of tension so thick, Sam could feel it sucking the oxygen out of the room.

“Look. I – don’t really know how to do this well.”

“What is it that you’re trying to do?”

“Are you?” Toby paused briefly, the half-formed question hanging in mid-air. “Sam. Are you happy here?”

“Here in this office, or here in the White –“

“In the White House.”

“Very much so.”

“And you feel valued?”

“I know my worth.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

Sam started to protest, but Toby cut him off. “Look. What I mean to say is… you are valued.”

“Well, thank you Toby.” Sam’s tone was light but Toby’s odd manner was starting to make him nervous again.

“And not just by me. Josh, C.J., Leo – we all need you.”

“That’s very nice of you to say.”

“And if you happen to be the one who gets shouted down most often, I want you to know it has nothing to do with your abilities or the substance of your ideas, and everything to do with the fact that your looks outstrip everyone in the department by a country mile.”

Sam started to thank Toby again and stopped. He knew how playful Toby could be with the other staff when the mood took him. It was just banter, not a statement of opinion. He smiled benignly as he willed his face not to display any indication of the inner turmoil of his mind. 

Was it possible that the slight dimple showing in Toby’s right cheek and affectionate brightness in his eyes were in any way related to the words he’d just spoken?

Sam could have attempted reading into the tone with which Toby had delivered his compliment, but the man seemed to speak in a bedroom voice any time he wasn’t actively raising it. Sam spent a lot of his days consciously trying to avoid thinking about Toby’s voice, especially when Toby was talking.

After all, the last thing you should be thinking about when your boss is talking is how much you’d rather he was standing much closer to you, speaking his words directly into your ear. Preferably horizontal and wearing significantly fewer items of clothing.

There was something about working this crazy job with its high stakes and inherent sleep deprivation. You were constantly having to be so careful and considered when talking to all but a select few. You couldn’t possibly allow yourself to slip up, even once, as C.J. had expertly proved this evening. 

It changes how you interact with those you really can trust. When you are finally alone, the tiredness and whimsy set in and all inhibitions and self-awareness fly out the window.

“Sam.” Toby’s voice jolted him out of his reverie and he opened his eyes.

“Sorry, I –“ Sam was unusually at a loss for words. Had he actually fallen into a micro-sleep, or simply been lost in his head for so long that it appeared that way?

“One other thing, Sam.”

“What?” 

“You need to stop apologising.” Sam wasn’t imagining the broad smile on Toby’s face. He loved when he could lay claim to being responsible for it. A unique mixture of affection and amusement, it was a kind smile, indulgent. 

“Yes, Toby.” Sam knew he should let the comment slide, but he could no more let it go than he could ignore Leo’s comments earlier that evening. “I’m sorry, what were you saying before?”

“Before what?”

“About my good looks.”

“..you have them?”

“Yes, and?”

“Do you know? I don’t think I’ve ever encountered someone so obvious about fishing for compliments.”

“No, I just thought you were going to say something useful.”

“Useful”

“Yeah, like how I can win over the people who always shout me down in meetings.”

“Oh Sam, it’s not like that.”

“... it isn’t?”

“Well, for starters, everyone is in the same boat. You start talking and everyone gets distracted.”

“Distracted how?”

Toby cast an imaginary fishing line into the middle distance between them. 

Sam wasn’t deterred. “I can hardly imagine C.J. getting hung up about me in a meeting.” He had almost entirely dismissed Toby’s suggestion, then a thoughtful look flashed across his face as he reconsidered. “Josh, maybe?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Would I?”

Toby took half a step forward, closing the distance between them.

“Yes, I think you would.”

Sam gave into the instinct to swallow as he kept eye contact with the Communications Director.

“Distracted how?”

Toby reached up a hand tentatively, tracing Sam’s bottom lip with his index finger, barely brushing the skin.

“Your lips.”

“My… lips?”

“Yes. When you get passionate about something and start talking, your mouth…“ Toby trailed off.

“Yeah?” Sam prompted. His lips were too dry all of a sudden and again he gave into his body’s demand to moisten them.

As his tongue poked out, it brushed against Toby’s finger and he saw his Adam’s apple bob up, then down again as he swallowed.

Dragging his gaze up Toby’s face, he took in his eyes - virtually black as each pupil had dilated to absorb most of the iris. 

“What else?” Sam asked breathlessly.

Toby’s lip twitched as his face struggled with the combination of arousal and amusement coursing through his body. On the one hand, Sam Seaborn was standing right in front of him, taunting him with a mimicry of fellatio, whether consciously or not, making his blood race, his heart pound, and his cock firm up against the zipper of his pants. On the other hand, Sam was so fiercely fishing for compliments that it was equal parts endearing and ludicrous. But the truth remained that it was very difficult to keep smiling with a hard-on.

“Your hands.”

“What about my hands?”

Toby took Sam’s left hand in both of his, turning it over and tracing the bones on one side and gently massaging the palm on the other. Sam groaned in relief as he pressed his thumb hard into the thenar muscles at the heel of his palm, dragging it slowly up to just below the first knuckle of his thumb. 

“What about my hands?” Sam asked again. His groan had made Toby instantly lose his train of thought.

“They’re captivating.” Every point of contact between their hands was a tiny spark of electricity. “So soft… almost feminine.”

Sam would have objected, but there was nothing he was prepared to say right now that might risk losing what Toby was doing to his hands.

“Hmm?”

“You use them a lot when you talk. Did you know that?” Toby was murmuring to himself. “Always gesturing, gesticulating. Sometimes I find myself watching the story your hands are telling, and then you’ll ask me what I think. In those moments, all I can think of is - those hands are beautiful. I wonder what they look like up close? I wonder what they feel like? I wonder what they _taste_ like?”

At that, Toby dragged Sam’s hand up to his mouth, kissing the tip of his thumb, and groaning as the thumb pressed gently, seeking entry into his mouth. He opened his lips around it and sucked gently, relishing the sharp intake of breath he heard from Sam in response. His tongue was exploring, tasting, savouring what it had been waiting for for so long. After a few moments, he let the thumb fall from his mouth, a thin trail of saliva descending from his lower lip to the tip of Sam’s thumb. He moved swiftly onto the index finger, and then the next one, and the next, fellating each in turn. Sucking, nibbling, his tongue taking every opportunity to learn all that Sam’s fingers could reveal.

“Toby.” Sam’s voice was broken and when Toby looked up to meet his eyes, they were alexandrite blue.

“Sam?”

Toby wasn’t prepared when Sam abruptly closed the distance between them, his hands either side of Toby’s head and his lips firmly planted on his own. Toby took half a step back and found himself once again propped against his desk, Sam’s body flush against him. Sam’s mouth was hot on his. Lips slightly parted, sharing breath as his hands slid around further, his fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. Toby was so sensitive there, and as Sam gently scratched and massaged it, his hips jerked forward helplessly.

Gasping for air, Toby broke his mouth away from the kiss. “Jesus Christ.”

“Not quite.” Sam’s voice now had that familiar tone of superior amusement, and while his eyes were closed, Toby knew exactly the smirk he would be displaying, and how much he wanted to wipe that smirk off his face.

Toby’s hand reached down between them to rub firmly along the hardness in the front of Sam’s pants.

Sam’s open mouth crashed forward onto Toby’s shoulder, his teeth biting in over the pale yellow shirt. His hands were still buried in Toby’s hair.

Toby gave Sam’s cock one last squeeze through the fabric before letting go and placing his hands either side of Sam’s hips. He aligned his erection with Sam’s and pressed forward, grinding against him. 

Sam’s response was to clamp his teeth harder into the meat of Toby’s shoulder.

Sam was practically draped over him, so Toby used his weight distribution to unbalance him enough to turn them around. Now Sam was propped against the desk. In his surprise at being manoeuvred so abruptly, Sam released his dental death grip of Toby’s shoulder.

Toby stood up and gave himself a few inches of space. It was a wrench every time he had to put any distance between him and Sam, but if he hadn’t, there was every chance this whole thing would be over before he even had a chance to…

He took in the canvas laid out before him. Sam’s hair was mussed, his tie crooked and his shirt looked like it hadn’t seen an iron this decade. His pupils were blown wide and his cheeks were flushed. His chest was heaving as he struggled to get his breath back. He was simply put, the most beautiful thing Toby had ever seen.

Toby placed his hands on Sam’s shoulders, looking him in the eye. A smile was threatening to break out over his face, and he let it. Sam was so far gone that he no longer possessed requisite control of his facial muscles to smile, but his eyes had lit up in happiness.

Toby had learned over several years the different ways that Sam’s eyes could light up. Most recently it had been with passion, anger, and hurt. In the early days it was excitement, possibility, and opportunity. Here, plain and simple, it was happiness.

Toby reached forward for Sam’s cock and found it still rock hard against the front of his trousers. Deftly, he opened the trousers and they fell to pool on the floor at his feet. Toby quirked an eyebrow as their removal revealed a pair of Princeton branded boxers. He pressed a hand firmly against his own cock to prevent an embarrassingly quick reaction to the shape of the shorts, distorted and utterly obscene, with a darkened wet patch in the front.

Toby discarded the shorts and finally got his hand around Sam. Sam’s quick intake of breath pushed his stomach out to bounce against Toby’s hand, making it unintentionally slide along his cock.

Flicking his thumb over the tip and sliding his hand firmly down, Toby closed his eyes, listening carefully to every exhalation and sharp gasp that his ministrations elicited. 

Sam’s cock was so heavy in his hand. Hot and hard, and he smelled of arousal. Toby felt his mouth watering and couldn’t wait any longer to taste.

Truthfully, he’d not done this in a very long time, and all experience he did have was recalled through a haze of alcohol and smoke. 

He knew what he liked though, and as well as attempting to throw in a few things he thought in theory he _might_ like, within a few short minutes, Sam’s breath was coming in desperate gasps and he had tapped Toby’s head in warning.

Toby’s right hand was holding Sam’s hip, acting as much to ground Sam as to balance himself. He squeezed it in acknowledgement and his mouth descended once more to take Sam as deeply as he could, before pulling back slowly, dragging his tongue along the vein on the underside and forming a tight seal around the head.

Sam came with a guttural growl, his back bent over as he invested all his efforts into not thrusting his hips forward. His body jerked through the aftershocks and Toby’s hand on his hip was a welcome point of grounding. 

Sam’s eyes were closed and when he opened them, Toby was standing in front of him, eyes dark and shining, lips red and swollen, and sporting a grin that could block out the sun.

Sam reached his hands up behind Toby’s head and pulled him down into a searing kiss. More confident now, he was exploring Toby’s mouth with his tongue, tasting the heady combination of whisky, cigars and himself. He felt Toby’s erection against his thigh through trousers and groaned into the kiss. 

“Toby.”

“Sam.” Toby couldn’t help pressing against Sam’s well-muscled thigh. There was no reason on earth why a bookish speech writer should have that level of physical fitness or be quite so toned. Not that Toby was complaining. 

Toby knew he was close. He could probably have come from just thinking about the past few minutes. This had been by far the most erotic experience of his life. That either spoke volumes about his past relationships and marriage, or about how right it felt to be this close to Sam. Arousal was coursing through him and he couldn’t remember ever feeling this turned on. 

Sam reached a hand down and undid Toby’s belt. It was quite a feat to achieve that single handedly, which he promptly surpassed by undoing the button and unzipping the fly, without pausing in his active participation of the kiss.

He fished Toby’s cock out and his whole body wracked with a shudder when he felt how big he was. Toby’s cock was average length, but the girth – Sam could barely wrap his fingers around it and the mere notion of it was running the risk of making him swoon.

Toby chuckled into the kiss, and Sam let a puff of amused air out of his nose.

Sam broke the kiss, shaking his head and taking a deep breath. “Fuck, Toby.” 

Toby wasn’t accustomed to hearing Sam curse and Sam felt the effect it had on him as his cock jerked in his hand. He gave Toby’s cock an experimental tug, gentle and a little unsure.

Toby leaned forward to whisper in Sam’s ear. “I’m not made of glass, Sam. You can do better than that.” Toby took Sam’s earlobe in his teeth and bit gently.

Sam cursed again and his hand gripped tighter, jerking Toby’s cock in a familiar rhythm. It was slightly awkward at this angle. He felt Toby’s cock get impossibly harder, and a wave of tension flow through him, starting at his shoulders which curled in, travelling down his spine, causing a series of aborted thrusts into his hand and a complete loss of the ability to hold his own weight. Toby all but fell on him. 

As Toby came, Sam stroked him through it. At least four waves: shoulders tensed, hips thrust, legs turned to jelly and repeat.

Sam felt Toby bury his face in his neck, showering him with soft kisses as his body came down from its orgasmic high.

After a few moments, reality started rearing its ugly head in Sam’s mind. What he wanted to do right then was curl up on Toby’s couch with him. A noisy part of his brain realised that half a dozen staffers saw him doing a fair impression of a gallows march into the office a short time ago, while the other noisy part of his brain realised that he was currently holding a handful of come and he really should find a means of disposal before it dripped onto the White House carpet.

“Toby?”

“Yeah?”

“I need to –,“

“Oh, yeah.” Toby managed to climb off Sam and support himself on his own legs. Sam stepped away from his desk and they both took in the damage. Several papers were torn and crumpled, and a holder of pens had been scattered. Toby was momentarily grateful that they were well past the days of quill and ink.

Sam found some tissues and a bin and disposed of what was in his hand, as well as everything incriminating he could see that could afford to be thrown out in regular trash as opposed to confidential shredding.

Toby stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, having refastened his pants and done up his belt. Sam bent down to pull up his boxers and looked up to see Toby checking him out. Toby looked away quickly, innocently, and Sam smiled to himself.

After he’d made himself somewhat presentable, Sam stood before Toby, mimicking their positions from the beginning of the meeting.

Sam’s face broke into a broad grin and Toby smiled back, relieved. Sam leaned in and kissed Toby on the cheek. Toby’s hand reached up to Sam’s face, and gently nudged it to kiss him on the mouth again. 

They kissed for a few minutes, casual and comfortable, soft kisses and long-tongued explorations interspersed between uncontrollable smiles and unsuppressed giggles of pure joy.

Sam was sorry to break the kiss, but his reasons for leaving started to rear their ugly heads again.

“I have to go –“

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What have we said about apologising?”

“But I don’t want to go.”

“Then don’t go.”

Sam laughed in spite of himself. If Toby really stood by all the simple commands he gave, absolutely nothing would ever be done in their office.

“I have to.”

“I know.”

“I really enjoyed … this.”

“Me too.”

“Would you like to do it again?”

“Yeah. When do you get off work?”

“Well, I’ll have to ask my boss.”

With a last, lengthy kiss goodbye, Sam made his way out the door. When he opened it, he caught Ginger’s eye. 

His brain crashed to a halt and he stood like a deer caught in the headlights.

She asked “How was it?” in a sympathetic tone. Ginger hadn’t been among those in the bull pen when he’d gone into Toby’s office, but chances were she’d gathered from the rest of the staff how out-of-line he’d been in Leo’s office. The most probable reason for his being in Toby’s office with the blinds down is that he had been given a proper dressing down.

“It was okay.” Sam didn’t see Ginger’s knowing look as he quickly crossed the short distance to his office and shut the door. While the blinds were drawn, and the door was locked, Toby Ziegler’s office had never undergone sound-proofing installation.

\----

Sam was sitting at his desk a few minutes later, hard at work on some revisions to a speech the First Lady was preparing to give the following day, that had been due the day before, when a familiar thunk broke his absolute concentration.

It was the well-known sound of a Spaldeen hitting the reinforced glass window between his and Toby’s offices.

He stood up and walked to the window, where he saw Toby sitting on the chair opposite, smiling, relaxed. It was that same affectionate and amused smile and Sam felt himself falling. It had always been one of his failings - falling in love too fast.

Somehow though, he felt. This time, it might be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own these characters. Please don't sue. Aaron Sorkin is a genius.


End file.
